


Mall of America

by Professor_Fluffy



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Fluffy/pseuds/Professor_Fluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve needs assistance picking out assorted goods and sundries. Tony tags along. Steve has a minor breakdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mall of America

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endless-twisted-lullabies](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=endless-twisted-lullabies).



Tony looked happy, gleeful, immensely pleased with himself. Stark tower was a monument to the power of ingenuity, stretching toward the sky in supplication, a modern Olympus, future home to the avengers. Allowing the Iron Man suit to breach the stratosphere could already be considered hubris, so what was one more straw on the camel’s back?

He broke into a full grin, teeth flashing white against his tan skin and dark hair. Pepper thought the tower was ostentatious; he must be doing something right.

Tony is momentarily blinded by a flash going off, reminding him that he’s still surrounded by the press. They make him think of sharks, with great glistening white teeth, only these sharks are armed with microphones. He grins and spreads his arms, flashing his Iron Man shirt with a smirk. Modesty is so not his best quality. 

Tony walks toward the giant marble entryway with its towering glass doors and stainless steel frame. He hates the cold stainless steel, it’s such a bitch to clean. He prefers something more flashy, a little more red and gold. 

The doors woosh open, expelling cold air, and Tony steps inside, security instantly blocking the press behind him. Captain America is standing in front of the massive water fountain with a disapproving frown. Maybe a three story statue of himself, immortalized in cold cement, fingers gushing water into a bright koi pond, is a bit much. 

He lifts his sunglasses and raises an eyebrow, “come to apologize, Cap?”

Steve does the lip thing. The half pout that screams, _I won’t sink to your level._ Tony loves the lip thing. “I thought we’d moved past that Stark. We ate Shawarma together. You made it a full half hour without dipping my proverbial pigtails in ink. I think I’m flattered.”

Tony shrugs, “comfort food is similar to comfort sex Cap, all bets are off when you finally realize you’re not the only one involved.”

“You’re disgusting,” Steve frowns.

“I try.”

“I need to go shopping.”

Tony blinks. “This isn’t the mall.”

“Yes, I know,” Steve shuffles his feet nervously. “I don’t know anything about the modern shopping. Natasha is on a mission, and Fury flat out refused to let Clint take me, something about the one time he let Barton violate dress code, there was a purple dress, and it was not good PR. Banner is in Chile, helping with a biological outbreak, and Thor, well, that’s kind of a given. So I thought maybe you could help? If you can get over your childish need to bicker for five seconds.

“You’re asking a lot,” Tony said with a grin. “What are we looking for? Clothing? Aquariums? Equipment for a rectal stick excavation?

“Stark!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“I can ask someone else.”

“No you can’t, muscles, come on, I’ll help you out.”

Two hours later Tony’s Audi R8 is parked in front of the local shopping mall. Tony is hogging four spots, because two were insufficient, he croons affectionately to the car as he hits the locks. Happy is sitting in the limo, parked in front of the Audi, effectively protecting the R8 from stray shopping carts and teenagers with sharp keys. The mall has over three hundred shops, all of them filled with the kind of touristy crap Tony hates with a passion. He checks his watch, it’s still early, so at least the mall won’t be too crowded. 

Steve seems enthusiastic, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. He picks out two toothbrushes, one in red and one in blue. Tony stops him from buying a twelve pack of tube socks with a glare. “Did you even feel these? They don’t have any padding Steve, they itch. They’re a dollar. They’re probably made from the tears of small children.” The last part comes out in a low whine.

Steve frowns, “there’s nothing wrong with saving your money for a rainy day.”

“Where’d you get that cliché, Farmer’s Almanac?”

Tony is browsing magazines, looking at pinups, petting glass figurines of tiny cats, which Steve can’t help but think is, well, kind of adorable. Tony holds his packages while he shops, only offering his opinion once, when Steve stops to buy a stick of Old Spice. Tony picks up a bottle of Sandalwood, inhaling deeply, “I love this. Sandalwood smells so good. But it doesn’t work for me.” He sets the bottle back on the shelf. Steve purchases two bottles, despite the outrageous price, as soon as Tony wanders off into the next stall. 

Steve is obsessed with leather, not that Tony entirely disapproves. Leather wallets, leather shoes, leather belts, leather canteen, leather jacket. Tony needs to warn Pepper to keep Captain America away from PETA. 

They visit five more stores. Steve does his best to stay between Tony and the walls, shielding himself from the people swirling around them. He reaches for a plastic bag of pre-packaged underwear, and notices Tony glaring at him. “No Steve.”

“What? They’re what all the fellas wear.” He stops. “Wore.”

“They’re what grandpas wear, Steve, which is why they’re all so damn cranky. Do you want to spend the rest of your days telling small children to get off your lawn? Cut off the circulation to your balls and you will,” Tony declares ominously.

Steve blushes a furious red and sets the briefs down.

Tony smirks. “That’s what I thought.” 

They pass giant neon stand blaring heavy metal music, and Steve almost backs into Tony.

“Hey, easy there Cap.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m good. It’s kind of crowded in here,” Steve glances around furtively. “You can call me Steve you know, not Cap. I’m just Steve.”

“Ok, Just Steve, tell you what, there’s an art supply store right over there, you go on in and stockpile. I’m going to get us something to eat. Ok?”

“Sure Tony. That sounds great.”

Tony orders two hotdogs smothered with so much crap they’d probably give someone without an arc reactor or super serum a coronary on the spot. He takes a big bite of one, wiping relish off his goatee, and turns to walk back to the art store. There is a crowd gathering right where he'd left Steve.

He pushes his way to the edge of the crowd and sees Steve, sitting on the floor, shoving himself into the smallest amount of space possible. Tony elbows several gawkers out of the way, parting the crowd with a curse. “Steve!" Steve glances up, chalk white with panic. He grabs Tony’s arm, scrambling to his feet. “Get me out of here Tony, I can’t breathe.” 

Tony pulls Steve back along the wall. “Give him space." he snappes.

The crowd began to disperse. 

Steve clings to his arm, digging his nails in.

When they reach the Audi, Steve draws several ragged breaths, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

Tony opens the center console, and drops his sunglasses inside. “Can’t do what Steve? You’re Captain America. I’ve seen you brave bigger crowds than this. I’ve seen you around guns, explosions, war, monsters, an alien invasion, the Hulk. Why here? That is, if you want to talk about it?” Tony smiles, a smile that’s more than a little brittle and unsure around the edges. His hands flutter nervously. “You know what’ll fix this? Cheeseburgers. Cheeseburgers will fix this. Happy!” Tony starts to roll down the window, and Steve grabs his arm.

“No cheeseburgers Tony,” he gasped. “Just, stop talking.”

“I don’t know what this is.” Steve sighs. “When I was young, I loved this kind of thing. I loved carnivals, I loved loud, colorful, and fast. My first Stark Expo was great. I couldn’t do as much as I wanted to, because my health was fragile, but it made me even more determined to break all the rules. But being in the mall just now, surrounded by the noise, the neon lights, the smell of nachos, hot dogs, of middle class America having fun, they’re the same smells, the same people, but everything is so, so different. It’s so much larger, so much faster. It’s so damn bright. I can deal with combat. I’m trained to deal with combat, to deal with stress. Fury sent me to a PTSD doctor after they pulled me out of the ice. I’ve been dealing with it. The Avengers make me feel like I’m home, like I’m part of a unit, it takes my mind off of everything. In the early forties, nylon bristles on toothbrushes were a new development, now we’ve got men on the moon, surgeons doing heart transplants. Everyone has indoor plumbing, My ma thought it was a luxury when we moved to Brooklyn, to not bathe out of a pitcher of water once a week using a damp rag. Now I can stay in the shower all night and never run out of hot water,” he takes a ragged breath.

Tony rubs his back in soothing circles. Steve buries his face in his hands.

“I’m supposed to be the super soldier, but I can’t deal with this.”

“It’s ok, Steve, if it makes you feel any better, most people can’t take a shower for twelve hours and not run out of hot water, that’s just how S.H.I.E.L.D. rolls. Twelve hour hot water showers, the only thing Nick Fury and I will ever agree on.”

Steve chuckles, breathing coming more naturally, still refusing to look at Tony. “I just miss it sometimes. I miss ordinary things, like little kids playing in the park with kites. Do kids even go outside anymore?”

Tony frowns, “well we’ve got the internet now, so...no?” He shrugs.

“Promise you won’t say anything about this to Fury.”

Tony smiles grimly. “Do I look like one of Fury’s minions?" He feels something warm and heavy suffusing his chest. “I was so afraid you were perfect. My dad always went on and on about you Steve. He was in love with the idea. How could I compete, I was five? So if it helps, you’re not the only one on the outside looking in.” Tony was clenching his fist so tight, his knuckles were white.

Steve smiled, real and genuine. “Well, maybe we can both be outside, looking in together?”

Tony shuddered, “Yeah, that sounds, perfect Steve, that sounds good. You know what? You want kites? I can get like a hundred kids in Central park by tomorrow morning with kites, _sooo_ many kites.”

Steve exhaled, gave an exasperated chuckle, “Stop throwing money at everything Tony. I’ll let you pick my fucking underwear, my damn underwear, sorry, and my socks, ok? Just stop.”

“We can work on this Steve, I promise. Just you and me. Give it time. I’ll take you to Coney Island." Steve shot him a look. Tony worried his lip, “No kites. I promise.”

“Alright,” Steve said. “It’s a date.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “It is? I mean…”

Steve smiled, “It is.”

“Oh, ok.” Tony Stark, notorious lady’s man, man’s man, man about town, actually looked a bit shy.

"Tell you what, let’s go back to Stark Tower, we can watch the Wizard of Oz, and I’ll introduce you to Amazon.”

Steve snorted. “That’s rude Tony, doesn’t your friend have a name?”

Tony chuckled, “Amazon’s not a dame pal. You’ll love it. No neon signs.”

Steve felt himself unwind a fraction for the first time since he’d opened his eyes at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Tony gunned the Audi, and floored it into rush hour traffic. 

“Damn it. Tony no!” 

“Language babe.”


End file.
